Gore-Whore and Kiddo (Rated NC-17 for Violence)

Nothing can describe the horror I felt as I walked in on the child and its mother.

Little Kiddo sitting in a pool of blood and guts, giggling and rubbing his momma's shit on his face with his free hand while waving around the exacto-blade he had used to cut himself out of her stomach with the other.

Earl, that unfeeling bastard, that machine of indifference, turned to me with a puzzled look on his face. For a second I thought, this is it, this horrific scene finally sliced through Earl's defenses, right through, just like little Kiddo sliced right through his momma's guts to freedom. But then Earl opened his big fucking yap and deflated that theory.

"What you supposin' she was a doin' masturbatin' wit a xacto-knife anyhow?"

"I dunno Earl. Hell, do you have to eat that fucking pickle right now?"

Earl and I debated the pro's and con's of finishing lunch while responding to crime scenes, particularly ones of this terrible nature, while we waited for the paramedics to arrive. Meanwhile little Kiddo kept rolling around in his momma's slurry. To be honest I was hoping he would choke himself to death on the umbilical cord and we could be done with the whole thing.

But of course that didn't happen. The medics arrived and after that sissy Chester puked, he and Paul reached in to retrieve Kiddo and clean him off.

Kiddo had other plans. That exacto-blade lashed out, cut Paul right on the meat of his left palm. Kiddo laughed, Paul cursed, I grimaced and Earl finished his sandwich.

After that sissy Chester bandaged Paul's hand, of which a tendon was split to render the thumb useless, I decided to help get Kiddo away from his momma's mess and into some clean towels. After all, it just would not due to have this tyke sitting in this shit all night.

So I bent down and cooed at Kiddo, while Chester tried to sneak up on him from behind. Kiddo giggled at my cooing, snot and his momma's blood bubbled up out of his nostrils as he did this. I cooed some more. Chester getting closer.

Kiddo started sucking on the exacto-blade like it was his thumb or something. The blade sliced right through his upper lip but Kiddo kept smiling. He seemed to enjoy sawing that thing through his upper gums. Chester saw this and slipped on something, placenta or intestine I don't know. But that poor sissy went down, hard. He landed face first in guts, right next to Kiddo who had extracted the exacto from his blood-spewing thumb-hole and proceeded to tear it across the back of Chester's head.

Kiddo was about half through scalping that sissy Chester before Earl, that unfeeling bastard, came in with a boot to Kiddo's chest, punting him across the room. Kiddo flew through the air giggling out snot and blood (his own and his momma's) and then splattered against the wall.

Kiddo's mushy form slid down the wall, leaving a streak of gore on the green and brown 70's patterned wall-paper. I just watched the splattered little tyke sliding, a clump of Chester's scalp in one hand and the exacto in the other, all the while Chester's screaming providing a soundtrack. Kiddo was choking as he slid to his death. For all the awful shit that had just gone down, of which Kiddo was the chief protagonist, my instinct was urging me to try and help him.

But I didn't, and Kiddo kept choking and sliding.

Kiddo hit the floor and sat there looking like a baby-doll covered in red jello and strawberry jam. Kiddo choked two more times then spit something up. We took one look at it and knew it was the head of his daddy's dick.

Earl leapt over the dead woman and finished Kiddo off with four good boot stomps. By the time he was done, Kiddo was nothing more than a lumpy stain on the floor.

Originally posted on May 3, 2005 on Myspace.

This is a particularly nasty slice of fiction I wrote.